There is a distinct comfort in the idea that, at our absolute foundation, we are merely Lego bricks with anxiety.

The ancient Greeks, specifically Leucippus and his student Democritus, proposed a radical idea around the 5th century BCE. They suggested that the universe was not a single, continuous blob of existence, but rather composed of two things: the “void” (empty space) and the “atomos” (uncuttable, indivisible particles).

It was a bold guess, considering they lacked microscopes, particle accelerators, or even a decent pair of reading glasses. It’s the kind of high-concept pitch that usually results in a 1970s low-budget sci-fi film where the “atoms” are played by spray-painted tennis balls and the “void” is just a black velvet curtain in a garage in Burbank.

The Uncuttable Truth

For centuries, this theory was largely ignored in favor of Aristotle’s view that matter was continuous. Aristotle was wrong, of course, but he had better PR.

When we finally returned to Atomism, we discovered the factual reality is far stranger than the Greeks imagined. We are mostly empty space. If you removed the empty space from the atoms that make up all human beings on Earth, the entire population would fit inside a space the size of a sugar cube.

This raises a fascinating question: Why do we take up so much room on the subway? It seems an awful lot of personal baggage is being carried by what is essentially a high-functioning vacuum.

The Collision of Fate

Philosophically, Atomism brings a heavy suitcase to the party. If the universe is just atoms colliding in the void, following set physical laws, where does free will hide?

Epicurus, a later fan of Atomism, introduced the concept of the “swerve”—a random, unpredictable motion of atoms to allow for human agency. It is a charming thought: the idea that your atoms might occasionally go rogue just so you can decide to order the salad instead of the fries. It’s the cosmic equivalent of a drive-in movie projector jumping a sprocket just as the plot gets boring.

The Cosmic Joke

Ultimately, Atomism is the great equalizer. It reminds us that the distinction between a king, a pauper, a golden retriever, and a plastic lawn chair is merely a matter of arrangement. We are all recycled star-stuff, currently organized into a shape that has to pay taxes and remember passwords.

The atoms currently composing your left ear may have once belonged to a prehistoric fern, a disgruntled Roman centurion, or a piece of drift-wood from the set of Hercules Against the Moon Men.

So, the next time you feel overwhelmed by the complexity of your life, remember: it’s just a temporary gathering of particles. Eventually, the party will break up, the lights will turn off, and your atoms will go on to become something else. Hopefully, something that doesn’t have to keep track of its own keys.